A Love of Ivan
by miladygrimm
Summary: Nurses don't just heal wounds. They heal hearts too.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The night started off annoying and steadily turned into hell. Flushing Meadows, better known as Corona Park, had been the temporary home to the both of the World's Fairs, tennis tournaments, boat festivals, the Queen's Theater, and a multitude of other gatherings. It was no surprise that Flushing Hospital had seen it's share of diabolic trauma nights; and they always came out of nowhere. It was Sylvia's personal opinion that Emergency Care Nurses got the short end of a short stick during them.

Sylvia had been carefully flirting with the idea of heading home at the end of her 16 hour shift. There was half an order of baked lasagna with her name on it tucked next to a single serving bottle of wine in her mini-fridge at her one room apartment. She daydreamed of enjoying both while tucked in bed with her ten year old kitty-cat.

A bubble bath if she was feeling really decadent; and oh goodness she was getting there. She hurt.

The 10 hour support soles of her white tennis shoes had given out mid-shift while she cleaned an eighty year old man's bedpan. A headache formed shortly after being yelled at by a doctor for something she hadn't done. The back pain came with being short and busty. Her medically trained mind wanted her to take some aspirin with codeine to get rid of it.

The voice of her mother, a registered homeopathitician, was telling her that the headache was mamboing away across her brain because of bad eating habits, stress, and the lack of anything resembling a sex life. Sylvia agreed. However since she wasn't going to change any of that any time soon she would have to settle for the aspirin.

"Hey! Hey Syl!" Sylvia looked up and resisted the urge to groan. Heading towards her was Raymond the X-ray technician.

Raymond, call me 'Studmuffin', Rodgers was under the impression that he was gods gift to the average women. He seemed to believe that every lady not destined to be on the front of a magazine should turn to putty when he turned his big blue eyes on them.

Oh sure, Ray was attractive in that American Boy sort of way. Tall, broad, and fit thanks to four nights a week at the gym. He kept his blond hair clipped close. Sylva thought there was a striking resemblance between him and every High School Quarterback ever. He looked like the guy you wanted to bring home to momma and have 2.5 kids with. He looked like the good guy. But Sylvia knew Raymond was not a good guy; not by a long stretch. He picked girls who were average on purpose. Ray liked to feed his ego with their simpering. And now he had turned those sparkling blues on her.

Sylvia took offense to his attention. Sure, she wasn't super model hot. She often kept her long brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She never wore make-up and her scrubs were as sexy as her clothing usually got. She got to shop in the 10-14 size sections at clothing stores...but it wasn't in a bad way. She'd heard from Rita, the Head Nurse, that it wasn't her appearance that kept her from getting hit on; it was her personality.

If men were put off by a woman not turned on by the latest in basketball statistics…their loss.

"Hi, Ray." She said tapping out pills into her hand.

"Headache?" He asked letting his eyes fill with mock concern.

Sylvia gave him a tight smile, "Nope, I feel great. That's why I'm chugging down pills and water."

His face went blank with confusion. He looked less like an athletic dream boat and more like a dog who'd been asked to do math. Then the wheels clicked into place and he shot her a bright smile. She hated his smile. It reminded her of a like a light bulb, it was all flash and no substance.

"Oh! I get it. You're joking."

"Gold star for you." She muttered. How had he managed to become an x-ray tech? Didn't they have to be a little intelligent?

"You'll feel better in a minute." He said motioning to the pill bottle.

When Sylvia didn't reply to this sage remark he plowed on, "Listen, I was wondering…"

"No."

"But I…"

"Listen, Ray, you've asked like ten times. When are you going to realize that I'm not interested?"

"Why not?" He sounded honestly confused this time.

She let out a sigh of frustration bringing her fingertips to the vein she was sure throbbed in her forehead.

"I dunno, maybe because I don't want to end up on that list you keep on the inside of your locker, maybe because I don't like being referred to as a 5er, or maybe it's because I just don't find you attractive." Okay, that last part was a lie. Ray was attractive. A blind fishwife would have found him attractive. At least on the outside. Inside that glorious golden boy shell Ray was a withered old hag with no teeth, glaucoma, and a lazy eye.

"What do you mean?" He looked like a confused dog again.

"Ray, damnit. I said NO. It isn't hard!" She slammed back the water and stormed away. She didn't look back but she could almost hear the cogs inside Ray's head turning as he tried to figure out just where he went wrong.

The worst part was he wasn't going to just give up. Oh she could go to Human Resources and file a sexual harassment claim. There would be an investigation and in the end Ray would get fired. But if Sylvia did that she would get a label. Cold Fish. Heartless bitch. A plethora of other names that basically meant she didn't like getting hit on.

Funny, if she did just take Ray up on his offer...let him take her out on a few dates and have a roll between the sheets and cry when he decided she was boring...if she did all of that Sylvia would get an entire different set of labels. The workplace wasn't fair.

"Of course it ain't fair."

Sylvia leaned over the nurses station the pluck a pen from the woman who was shaking it at her.

"It should be, Rita." Sylvia countered.

Rita shrugged a pair of painfully slim shoulders. Rita was nearly six feet tall with skin the color of unground coffee beans and skinny as a celery stalk. She smoked like a chimney and didn't give a rats ass what it meant for her lungs. She was also Sylvia's best friend.

"You got lady parts, honey. If this shit was fair you wouldn't see me working here, I'd have a whole harem of pretty boys fanning me and...well..." She waggled her eyes brows lecherously and sighed.

Sylvia opened her mouth to reply but paused when she heard the sounds of ambulances and emergency vehicles squealing away from the hospital. She frowned exchanging a glance with Rita.

"Well," Rita said plopping a pile of paperwork on the nurses station desk. "That can't be good." Her voice was thick with southern country thanks to her years raised in Charleston.

Sylvia nodded and checked her watch, "There goes my hope of getting off in an hour."

Rita snorted. "Yup. You an' me both, honey-child. Maybe one of those scientists down at the Stark Expo thing went crazy."

Sylvia shook her head. The Expo had caused nothing but work and trouble at the hospital. Whoever thought of putting in a bunch of scientists from a bunch of different countries all together on a thousand acres of land for an entire year…was an idiot. Since Stark Enterprises was holding this fiasco she could only assume that the blame was to be placed squarely on the shoulders of the one and only Tony Stark; Ego maniac.

Sylvia had nothing against Iron Man, nor what Tony was doing under that title. She did have a problem with the over confident air that Mr. Stark seemed to pour out…even across the space of camera and television.

"Awww shit." Rita cursed and pushed past Sylvia to mess with the waiting room television. Sylvia watched the green bar increase with the volume and froze in place.

The screen was filled with painful images of explosions. Screaming and running. The cameraman's view settled on massive robotic monstrosities as they leveled their arms and fired into the crowd.

Rita turned around screaming out orders to every nurse in a voice that would have made a drill sergeant proud. Sylvia found herself manning the emergency room doors, shouting directions to EMT's and paramedics as they wheeled in patients. She sent the worst to surgery and emergency rooms, taking up hall space when necessary, she over saw people getting patched up right in the waiting room. She took names and vitals and called out orders while Rita and others began to steadily go through patients person by person and help where they could.

It was a mess. A complete and total mess.

Christ she wanted to get out of these shoes. Arch supports be damned they did not feel half as good as a pair of soft slippers.

"We gotta live one!" Someone cried out. Sylvia turned and faced the door as the paramedics pushed through a man on a gurney. Sylvia had to do a double take. The man was not incredibly tall, only around six feet tall, but he was in excellent physical condition. His hair was black, streaked with white. However none of these things mattered once she saw all the tattoos. His arms, his legs, his hands his feet. God this man must love needles.

"Sylvia….take care of him." Rita said pushing her towards the paramedics. Sylvia blinked but didn't question the head nurse. The doctors were beyond strained.

"What do we have here, Frank?" Sylvia asked the familiar paramedic.

"Burns, lacerations, bruising everywhere…." Frank began listing off a plethora of ailments. "However…this is the worst of it.

Frank gently pulled back a mass of white gauze revealing a large expanse of blackened skin that had cracked and ripped away to show a bright redness beneath the flesh. She could see the yellow of fat tissue and the dark of muscle…..it did not look good. "Burn Ward….stat." She says guiding the gurney down the hall to the large elevators to get him to the burn unit.

Sylvia had every intention of letting him go at the elevator…but she felt a strong callused hand latch around her wrist, she watched as the tattooed fingers spasmed in pain. That was no surprise. He looked like he had been hit by a truck on fire. What did surprise her was that he did not cry out, Her pursed his lips till they turned white. His nostrils flared as he took in deep breaths, but he did not cry out. She hadn't the heart to pry his fingers from her arm. "Alright, big guy." She says stepping into the elevator and hitting floor three. "Let's get you taken care of."

His eyes opened for a moment. She watched the fog in them clear, and he zeroed in on her. Sylvia felt a jolt rush through her body. It settled in her stomach like a miniature storm. She opened her mouth to say something…though she wasn't entirely sure what.

" _Ti privlekAtelnaya_" He grunted out, before his dark eyes closed once more

_***translation**_ Ti privlekAtelnaya- I am {very} sorry


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ten hours after patients started pouring in, Rita was sending people home. Okay, sending was probably a nice word. Ordering was a more apt description of the way Rita was charging around telling people to sign off and get the heck out; Sylvia included.

"Get out of here Sylvia, you've been on the clock for almost forty hours. You look dead…I don't need a nurse who is dead on her damn feet."

"I'm not dead yet." Sylvia grumbled. "I hurt too much to be dead." Home sounded like heaven right now. Complete with a hot shower, some reheated pasta, cold wine, and bed. Her poor fat cat was probably dying for attention.

"Bullshit…get home, get sleep, I don't want to see you for at least 16 hours. Rest, food, and a bath…you stink."

Sylvia wasn't going to argue with that. 10 hour deodorant was not built to handle the stress and heat of an emergency room during a full blown emergency. She did stink and her scrubs were covered in god only knew what. She held her hands up, "I'm just gonna check in on 314 again."

314 is where they had stored the burn victim with the tattoos.

Rita raised one black brow and gave a 'humph' sort of sound, "I just bet you are…go on girl…I ain't gonna stop ya."

Sylvia shook her head, "It's not like that."

"Whatever…I gotta get home and screw the hell out of my husband before he forgets who I am."

Sylvia doubted anyone could forget Rita. Still, Sylvia waved at her boss and headed for the elevator. The doors slid shut and Sylvia had a few precious moments of personal space and silence.

She wasn't entirely sure why she cared so much about this one particular patient. He had been out almost the entire night, so far classified as a John Doe. Aside from those odd words he had spoken he hadn't given them any information. She had no idea who he was or where he was from. She assumed he was with the expo, though she couldn't imagine a scientist with that many marks. Unless science had gotten a great deal more liberal recently.

She stepped into the white room. The scent of antiseptic and plastic medicine swarmed her. A clear plastic tent had been placed over the burned area, the wound had been cleaned and bandaged. She picked up the little clipboard hanging off the end of the bed.

"Jesus..." She whispered. X-ray's had found that several ribs had been cracked, two broken, his right ankle too, not to mention all the lacerations, and bruising. But according to the doctors notes the man had suffered worse before. The doctor had circled almost 30 previously broken bones, the doctor had gone on to make notes of circular burn scars still visible on John Doe's back and legs.

The tattooed foreign man had all the markers for someone who had grown up in an abusive household. Somehow, Sylvia hadn't been surprised.

Despite everything the John Doe was in excellent physical condition and that he was confident that Mr. Doe would recover. It was just going to be a matter of time. His vitals had leveled out. He was on a regiment of broad spectrum antibiotics, Naproxen, and a few others. Everything seemed okay.

Still, Sylvia wanted to make sure. See it with her own eyes. She let her eyes fall away from all the bandaging to the monitors that told her his heart was beating slow and steady, that he was breathing that soft shallow breath of a man deep in sleep. It was a comfort to know he was sleeping easily.

"I see now. You like bad boys."

Sylvia didn't need to turn around to know it was Ray talking. "I don't know what you are talking about." She let the papers fall into place and set the clipboard back into it's slot.

"Please, you've been coming in here every hour to check up on him."

"Ray you sound jealous."

"Is it the tattoo's? Gotta be the fucking tattoos." Ray snorted.

Sylvia pushed the chart back into it's slot and tried very hard not to raise her voice in front of the patient. "Ray, I've tried to be nice. I've told you that I'm not interested. I've never tried to lead you on. I don't understand why you think you have any right to even think about asking about anything personal."

Ray put his hands on his hips and snorted again. Sylvia watched his pretty face contort into an ugly parody of his angelic visage. "You're so full of shit."

" 'Ey…"

Sylvia and Ray both jumped as the John Doe bed occupant called out.

"Why you don't lea'f lady alone, uh?" The voice rumbled once more. Sylvia turned and saw the John Doe looking at Ray with darkened eyes. No, looking didn't cover it. The tattooed man was laying out in bed, half of him bandaged up, unable to move, and he was staring down Ray. "She not interested."

Sylvia watched Raymond take a step back, He ran his hands over his side as if trying to stuff them into pockets that weren't there. "Fine, whatever."

The tattooed man said nothing else. He just nodded his head and watched Ray back out of the room. Only when they both heard the echo of footfalls fade away did he turn his attention on her. She felt his eyes scan her over, the same way a large cat might watch a very small mouse. She shifted uneasily and looked down, drawing her thumb over the medical chart.

"Thank you."

"Welcome." He said. She recognized the accent now. The rolling R's and hard enunciation of a Russian speaker.

"Now that you are awake, would you mind answering a few questions?" She said trying to put on her best business tone.

"Okay." He said starting to sit up.

"Oh, nononono no don't do that." She said moving around the bed, chart once again in hand. She placed her palm upon his chest and pushed him gently back against the bed. "You have been badly hurt…you should still be asleep."

"Not asleep." He said letting her push him back. Good, at least he was listening. Sylvia wasn't an idiot. She knew if he really wanted to sit up, her hand wasn't going to stop him.

"So I noticed, still…you need to rest, you've been injured." She said flipping open the chart, "Your ribs and ankle are…"

"No." he said flatly, "Don't need know…will heal."

She frowned, everyone wanted to know what was wrong, but…well if he wasn't ready…she wasn't going to say what's going on. It was his body. "Alright…still before we do anything else I need to know a few things. Name?"

"Ivan, Ivan Sokolov."

"Spell that for me." She asked eyes on the chart as he spelled out the name. "Thank you. Now, date of birth."

"October 15, 1972."

"Alright…Do you have any allergies that we should be aware of."

"No."

She continued on that way, asking all the normal medical questions. He answered in that rolling direct tone. No more information that exactly what she asked for, no details, no extras. "Alright, Mr. Sokolov….that's all for now. You should probably be getting back to sleep."

He just nodded and ran his tongue along the corner of his mouth. "You are one who brought me to this room."

"Yes, well not just me…I thought you wouldn't have remembered."

He gave her a blank look that told her absolutely nothing. She was beginning to find it rather annoying.

"You said something to me in Russian, I think."

"Oh?" he asked raising one dark brow. "What I say?"

"Uhhhh…Ti…priv…something."

"Don't remember." He said tilting his head to one side. He froze mid-motion and straightened his neck back out.

"I don't believe you." She said trying to mimic his flat tone. "But fine, have it your way." She moved around to one side leaning over him to adjust one of the little pads that was monitoring his vitals.

"You have bruise." He said suddenly, seeing her wrist.

"Yes, you gave it to me."

His eyes widened. "Did I?" He asked, his tone becoming softer. If she had known him better she might say there was sympathy there.

"Yes, when you came in…you were in pain, you reached out…grabbed my wrist. That's when you said what it is you said."

"Not dream." He responded, confirming something to himself.

"No, it wasn't." She said about to pull away. He grabbed her injured wrist again and held it gently between his thumb and index finger.

"Forgive." He leaned forward. Sylvia was sure he shouldn't be doing this. It must hurt his ribs and burned shoulder like hell to move at all. But she watched him lean forward anyway and then his lips were pressed to the bruised flesh. They were warm…gentle…which was unexpected. The kiss sent a tingle from her wrist to the rest of her entire body.

"Umm…" she said after a long moment. He looked up at her, his lips still pressed to her flesh, and he smiled, showing off a set of golden teeth. She usually hated grill-work. But…somehow it suited the rest of him just fine.

"Better?" he asked, his voice a deep purr.

"In a way." She said before she could stop herself. She cleared her throat and slowly pulled her arm away. "Thank you, Mr. Sokolov."

He nodded once more and settled back against the bed. He closed his eyes and she was relieved to see him attempt to rest. She slid the file back into place and moved to leave.

"Name?" He asked suddenly. She turned and he was looking at her with one barely opened eye.

"Sylvia."

"Sylvia, you call me Ivan."

_***Translations-**_

Da- yes

Nyet- No


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Tony Stark sat down in the subbasement of his cliff-side home. His eyes were riveted on satellite images that flashed over the holographic interactive screens. Chocolaty brown hair was tousled and he looked like he could use a few hours of sleep. But he couldn't. Not yet.

"Come on…where are you…where are you?"

"Something I can help you with, Sir?" Came the soothing tones of Jarvis, the VI computer and technological butler.

"Yeah…this area…" Stark said highlighting a large zone on the image with his finger. "This is where Rhoddy and I were having out battle with Vanko…" Stark trailed off absently.

"Indeed it was, Sir." Jarvis said flooding one of the holo-screens with images from that days fight and the media fiasco that ensued afterwords. A large picture of Stark carrying Pepper off towards the sky took up a good portion of the screen, "Might I say sir you made the proverbial splash."

The corner of Tony's mouth twitched in a grin. "Thank you, Jarvis. However…not my main concern at the moment."

"Might I inquire as to your concern, Sir?"

"Yeah…where did he go?"

"Am I to assume you speak of the prolific, and death defying, Mr. Vanko?"

"I do. Where did he go…all the police found was metal and aside from his teeth, Vanko was flesh. So, where did he go?"

"It is a puzzle."

"Yeah…I don't like puzzles." Stark said pushing away from his desk. "Let's put it together Jarvis."

"Right away, Sir."

"American television shit." Ivan said tossing the remote down. Sylvia did not bother to argue with him. He was right. Especially daytime television. Besides, Ivan had been here for almost two weeks with nothing else to do. He ran a thick hand through his streaked hair and breathed out loud enough that she almost called it a hiss.

"I'm sorry, not much I can do about it." Sylvia was gently moving the plastic tent away from the wounded shoulder. "This is not going to feel good."

"Already not feel good." Ivan said. "Bad television, bad food, no vodka."

"Someone's grumpy." Sylvia smirked beginning to pull back the tape that kept the bandages in place.

"Not grumpy…bored." He said licking that same spot on his lip. Sylvia had learned over the weeks that Ivan was one of those people who had an oral fixation. He dealt with this by tucking a toothpick in his mouth. The hospital frowned on such things…what with the worry of him swallowing it or something. Therefore no toothpicks. He would, when frustrated with something, lick at the spot where the slip of wood would be as if searching for it.

"Mmmm." Sylvia said mostly ignoring him as she began to check the wound. "You are healing very well."

"Am strong."

"So I noticed. You are in amazing shape."

He smiled slowly his eyes suddenly ore interesting in her than the television. "I am?"

Sylvia raised her brow, giving him a blank face, "You know very well you are. You don't need me feeding your ego."

"Am bored, pretty woman make better."

"I'll go find one for you." Sylvia said gently cleaning the wound. She watched him flinch and felt a small bit of sympathy. "I'm sorry."

He gave a small shake of his head in lieu of a shrug. "You are pretty woman." He said as if it were a well known fact.

Sylvia shook her head and let the burn wound air as she checked his other wounds. Typically she didn't work burn ward but for some reason Rita kept assigning her this room. Sylvia hadn't found the heart to complain. "Thank you, but you are on medication, hard to believe a guy whose drugged up."

"Sylvia." He said flatly, reaching out with his good arm and touching her working hand, "Why you don't believe Ivan?"

Sylvia shrugged "Because the only guy whose shown any interest in me in…well…years…is Ray. And the only reason he does so is because I'm on the 5er list."

"5er list?"

"Yeah…" She talked absently as she continued to check him over, pulse, healing, medicine bag. Going through it all automatically as she explained. "You see all the male nurses and techs…they have a list for the girls here. And they rate them…you know taking into account bust size, ass size, overall looks, and sometimes attitude." Sylvia noted the dark purple bruises were fading around the edges, turning to the odd yellow of healing. "Ray likes to go after girls who don't rate too high. He likes the kind of girl who is oh so happy that such a hot guy paid attention to her."

"Proud." Ivan said nodding.

"Very. However…I rate a five on the scale."

"Don't understand."

"I'm not skinny enough. I don't tan, or wear pretty clothes, and I don't wear make-up…I don't try to impress them…so unimpressed they are." She said without feeling any bitterness for the way things just were.

"They are stupid." Ivan said bluntly, taking her pale fingers against his golden tattooed hand. "You...like Rita Hayworth."

"Rita Hayworth?" Sylvia asked, knitting her brown brows in confusion.

"_Da_." He said smirking. "She was Gilda…singer…dancer…great legs. 1940's…beautiful. She was pale too." He said looking down at their clasped fingers. "But she was no so flimsy as these modern girls…she looked like woman."

"I've never heard of her."

"Beautiful woman…" He said bringing Sylvia's fingers to his lips. "Like you…you…not 5…you a 10."

"What is going on, Ivan?" Sylvia asked flatly. "Is this usual for Russian men? You know, flirting with a nurse? Or is this something else?"

"What else?"

"Don't pretend like your English is bad now. You know exactly what I am asking…is this just fun for you? Are you so bored you are trying to make me blush."

"Not make…You blushing."

"Fine…I AM blushing. But damnit." Sylvia said pulling away from him. "I don't like idle flirtation. I'm not that kind of girl. I don't like playing around…" She tried to pull her hand out of his, but his fingers tightened suddenly around hers. "Ouch….Ivan…"

"I not playing." Ivan's voice growled out his eyes going from sparkling to dark, "You are beautiful." He sat up now.

"You need to rest."

"_Nyet._" He swung his legs, broken ankle and all over one side. He pulled her by their linked hands until she was pressed between his legs. She became very aware of several things all at once. The first was that his bare thighs were pressed around her. The second was that he nothing on underneath the hospital gown. The third was that the door to his room was very, very open. She tried to pull away but his thighs clamped around her. When he was sure she was not going anywhere he let go over her fingers and placed his hands on either side of her face. "_Ti takAya kras Ivaya_." He said a moment before he hauled her even closer to slam his mouth against hers.

He was not gentle. His lips pressed roughly to hers, pushing until her mouth relented. His tongue slipped into her mouth and flicked expertly against hers. His hands were rough against her cheeks, and he tasted like hospital food, but she didn't care. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss. She opened her mouth wider and just let him take. His hands slid upward disappearing into her hair, holding her to him as their mouths veritably mated. She wrapped her arms around his neck, with no choice but to give in…she did. He was warm and she felt hard worked muscles beneath his flesh. The skin where he was tattooed was slightly raised. She could feel every little mark on him. Her fingers traced over all the lines and shapes, dancing lightly in contrast to his roughness.

She felt him moan into her mouth and she responded with a whimper.

"Well now."

Sylvia sprang away from Ivan turning to see Rita smirking in the doorway. "I didn't realize we were that kind of care service." the skinny black woman chuckled.

Sylvia licked her lips and blushed deeply. Ivan shrugged and sat back, seemingly unaware…or perhaps uncaring…or the fact that his hospital gown did absolutely nothing to hide his enjoyment of their kiss.

"Syl…Dr. Smith is making his rounds…I'd suggest you make yourself scarce." Rita warned. "But you've got a minute or two."

Sylvia heard Rita chuckle and walk away.

"Crap." Sylvia said closing her eyes. "I am never going to hear the end of this."

"Do you want hear end of this?" Ivan asked lifting one dark brow. Sylvia just blushed harder. "I take this as no."

"You sound awfully smug."

"I have taste of beautiful woman on my lips. Almost as good as vodka."

_***translations-**_

Ti takAya krasivaya- You are such a beautiful girl/woman


End file.
